2017-3 Poetry Now

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President’s​ ​Message: After​ ​a​ ​month​ ​away​ ​from​ ​SPC,​ ​I​ ​attended​ ​the​ ​wonderful​ ​reading​ ​by​ ​Patrick​ ​Grizzell​ ​and Mary​ ​B.​ ​Moore​ ​on​ ​August​ ​7.​ ​Thanks​ ​to​ ​Mary​ ​Zeppa​ ​for​ ​making​ ​this​ ​great​ ​evening happen! I​ ​hope​ ​you​ ​can​ ​join​ ​Penny​ ​Kline​ ​and​ ​me​ ​for​ ​the​ ​release​ ​of​ ​the​ ​new​ ​collection​ ​by ​Mike Owens​ from​ ​Random​ ​Lane​ ​Press​ ​on​ ​October​ ​16​th​ at​ ​SPC.​ ​I’ve​ ​been​ ​working​ ​with​ ​Mike for​ ​the​ ​last​ ​two​ ​years​ ​to​ ​finish ​The​ ​Way​ ​Back​,​ ​and​ ​we’re​ ​proud​ ​of​ ​this​ ​thoughtful​ ​book​ ​of poems.​ ​Mike,​ ​who​ ​grew​ ​up​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Sacramento​ ​region,​ ​is​ ​serving​ ​a​ ​life​ ​sentence​ ​in prison,​ ​and​ ​while​ ​he​ ​can’t​ ​attend,​ ​many​ ​of​ ​his​ ​family​ ​and​ ​friends​ ​will​ ​be​ ​on​ ​hand​ ​to​ ​read from​ ​the​ ​book​ ​and​ ​celebrate​ ​this​ ​new​ ​collection​ ​of​ ​his​ ​poems.​ ​Profits​ ​from​ ​the​ ​book​ ​will help​ ​to​ ​support​ ​Mike’s​ ​wife,​ ​Maurita,​ ​and​ ​their​ ​three​ ​sons.​ ​In​ ​addition,​ ​a​ ​percentage​ ​of book​ ​sales​ ​will​ ​go​ ​to​ ​support​ ​the ​Find​ ​Your​ ​Voice​program,​ ​a​ ​creative​ ​writing​ ​program for​ ​incarcerated​ ​youth​ ​run​ ​by​ ​916​ ​INK.​ ​Come​ ​and​ ​hear​ ​the​ ​poems,​ ​and​ ​if​ ​you​ ​like​ ​them, buy​ ​the​ ​book.​ ​I​ ​think​ ​you’ll​ ​find​ ​it​ ​a​ ​strong​ ​collection​ ​of​ ​work.​ ​If​ ​you’re​ ​interested​ ​in helping​ ​with​ ​the​ ​marketing​ ​of ​The​ ​Way​ ​Back​,​ ​let​ ​me​ ​know at ​randomlanepress@gmail.com​. Also​ ​don’t​ ​miss​ ​the​ ​irrepressible​ CHARRON​ ​SMITH,​ an​ ​MC,​ ​DJ,​ ​writer,​ ​slam​ ​poet, spoken​ ​word​ ​artist,​ ​blogger,​ ​and​ ​a​ ​media​ ​mogul,​ ​along​ ​with ​Marvin​ ​Xia,​ a​ ​first generation​ ​ABC​ ​(American​ ​Born​ ​Chinese)​ ​and​ ​aspiring​ ​writer​ ​and​ ​relative​ ​newcomer​ ​to the​ ​Sac​ ​poetry​ ​slam​ ​community​ ​will​ ​be​ ​heating​ ​up​ ​Hot​ ​Poetry​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Park​ ​at​ ​Fremont Park​ ​on August​ ​21,​ ​at 7​ ​pm,​ ​with​ ​open​ ​mic​ ​to​ ​follow.​ ​Thanks​ ​to​ ​Bethanie​ ​Humphreys​ ​for hosting​ ​Hot​ ​Poetry​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Park​ ​again​ ​this​ ​summer! Monday,​ ​Sept.​ ​4,​ ​Labor​ ​Day, 7:30​ ​pm,​ ​Jennifer​ ​O’Neill​ ​Pickering​ ​and​ ​Pat​ ​L.​ ​Nichol​ ​read their​ ​poems​ ​focused​ ​on​ ​labor​ ​and​ ​more.​ ​Come​ ​hear​ ​poems​ ​about​ ​jobs​ ​and​ ​unions. Wear​ ​your​ ​union​ ​t-shirts.​ ​Big​ ​open​ ​mic​ ​on​ ​theme.​ ​Hosted​ ​by​ ​Wendy​ ​Williams.

If​ ​you​ ​are​ ​both​ ​a​ ​poet​ ​and​ ​a​ ​visual​ ​artist,​ ​submit​ ​to​ ​Jennifer​ ​Pickering​ ​for​ ​this​ ​year’s Sable​ ​and​ ​Quill​ ​art​ ​show​ ​and​ ​reading.​ ​Sable​ ​and​ ​Quill’s​ ​9th​ ​ Anniversary​ ​is​ ​in​ ​Jan​ ​2018​ ​at SPC.​ ​Send​ ​submissions​ ​to​ ​or​ ​get​ ​details​ ​at ​jenniferartist09@gmail.com

-Bob


Memorial:​ ​Theresa​ ​McCourt Thomas​ ​Mitchell A.M.​ ​Clarke Samantha​ ​Archuleta Nicholas​ ​Kyle​ ​Edwards Katherine​ ​Breger Zachariah​ ​Rush Stephen​ ​Cipot​ ​III


Theresa​ ​McCourt Fond​ ​Memories​ ​of​ ​a​ ​Poet​ ​and​ ​Dear​ ​Friend On​ ​April​ ​30​th​,​ ​2017,​ ​Theresa​ ​McCourt​ ​passed​ ​away,​ ​but​ ​left​ ​behind​ ​cherished​ ​memories​ ​of​ ​her glowing​ ​smile,​ ​and​ ​her​ ​beautiful,​ ​thought-provoking​ ​poetry.​ ​Theresa​ ​was​ ​an​ ​amazing​ ​supporter of​ ​the​ ​Sacramento​ ​Poetry​ ​Center​ ​and​ ​volunteered​ ​countless​ ​hours​ ​of​ ​work​ ​for​ ​SPC.​ ​She​ ​was​ ​a long-time​ ​poetry​ ​workshop​ ​participant,​ ​Editor​ ​of​ ​Tule​ ​Review,​ ​event​ ​organizer​ ​for​ ​the​ ​Children’s Multicultural​ ​Literary​ ​Festival,​ ​and​ ​volunteer​ ​for​ ​many​ ​poetry​ ​events​ ​throughout​ ​the community.​ ​Theresa​ ​was​ ​an​ ​amazing​ ​poet,​ ​and​ ​her​ ​friendship​ ​will​ ​be​ ​missed​ ​among​ ​many​ ​at SPC,​ ​along​ ​with​ ​the​ ​community​ ​she​ ​supported​ ​and​ ​inspired.​ ​Here​ ​is​ ​one​ ​of​ ​her​ ​poems​ ​published in​ ​the​ ​June​ ​2008​ ​edition​ ​of​ ​Poetry​ ​Now.


Getting​ ​Started Gimpy,​ ​ragged, shifting from​ ​stillness​ ​to​ ​motion, relearning​ ​after​ ​so​ ​many​ ​repeated​ ​efforts, that​ ​breath​ ​will​ ​even​ ​out, that​ ​heart,​ ​after​ ​the​ ​initial​ ​flurry, will​ ​recover​ ​an​ ​even​ ​beat, that​ ​hips​ ​and​ ​knees will​ ​be​ ​anointed​ ​a​ ​certain​ ​distance from​ ​the​ ​house. After​ ​one​ ​or​ ​two​ ​miles, the​ ​Achilles​ ​will​ ​even​ ​shed its​ ​shadowy​ ​film​ ​of​ ​scarring, grown​ ​anew from​ ​one​ ​night​ ​of​ ​stiffening​ ​sleep. Since​ ​first​ ​stepping​ ​onto​ ​the​ ​road, twenty-four​ ​years​ ​ago, I’ve​ ​listened​ ​to​ ​so​ ​many​ ​of​ ​my​ ​grumblings, a​ ​variety​ ​of​ ​complaints— all​ ​of​ ​them​ ​reciting what​ ​can’t​ ​be​ ​done, what​ ​I​ ​could​ ​be​ ​doing​ ​instead, what​ ​I’m​ ​not​ ​capable​ ​of.

THERESA​ ​MCCOURT


Autumn​ ​Sequel

1. Beyond​ ​the​ ​window,​ ​the​ ​geese​ ​rise-then​ ​float​ ​incandescently on​ ​the​ ​morning​ ​haze. 2. There​ ​is​ ​a​ ​different​ ​stillness listening​ ​to​ ​the​ ​parables​ ​of​ ​willows clinging​ ​to​ ​the​ ​hillsides, a​ ​certainty​ ​of​ ​larks singing​ ​to​ ​themselves. 3. Above​ ​the​ ​long​ ​fencerow, the​ ​crooked​ ​mountains,​ ​the​ ​curving​ ​moon swinging​ ​over​ ​the​ ​overarching​ ​sky. 4. Maybe​ ​tomorrow​ ​I​ ​will​ ​forget​ ​myself and​ ​think​ ​of​ ​how​ ​the​ ​world​ ​really​ ​is when​ ​the​ ​fading​ ​light​ ​shines​ ​on​ ​a​ ​heron’s​ ​wings.

THOMAS​ ​MITCHELL


Walking​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Woods together we​ ​move​ ​through the​ ​tall​ ​pines he​ ​tells​ ​me of​ ​the​ ​bad​ ​days his​ ​words​ ​reaching through​ ​the​ ​sounds of​ ​an​ ​early​ ​autumn there​ ​is​ ​a​ ​need​ ​here in​ ​the​ ​pale​ ​shadows the​ ​new​ ​morning rots​ ​like​ ​an​ ​open​ ​fruit

A.M.​ ​CLARKE


The​ ​Salton​ ​Sea

SAMANTHA​ ​ARCHULETA

that​ ​was​ ​the​ ​year​ ​we​ ​visited​ ​the​ ​Salton​ ​Sea the​ ​air​ ​was​ ​thick​ ​with​ ​death the​ ​beach​ ​was​ ​hot​ ​and​ ​still the​ ​bones​ ​of​ ​long-dead​ ​fish​ ​crunched​ ​beneath​ ​our​ ​steps and​ ​we​ ​were​ ​silent​ ​because​ ​it​ ​felt​ ​wrong​ ​to​ ​stir​ ​the​ ​air I​ ​raised​ ​my​ ​camera​ ​with​ ​diffidence.​ ​ maybe​ ​it​ ​was​ ​too​ ​hot,​ ​maybe​ ​it​ ​was​ ​too​ ​bright but​ ​the​ ​soft​ ​swish​ ​of​ ​the​ ​sea​ ​seemed​ ​to​ ​beg​ ​me​ ​to​ ​drop​ ​the​ ​lens we​ ​walked​ ​along​ ​the​ ​edge​ ​of​ ​the​ ​water​ ​with​ ​our​ ​heads​ ​bowed the​ ​flies​ ​swirled​ ​around​ ​our​ ​ankles​ ​and​ ​our​ ​ears pelicans​ ​and​ ​gulls​ ​dipped​ ​and​ ​danced​ ​over​ ​the​ ​glossy​ ​mirror​ ​of​ ​water unaware​ ​and​ ​undaunted​ ​by​ ​the​ ​conditions. On​ ​the​ ​opposite​ ​shore​ ​we​ ​explored​ ​the​ ​shells of​ ​homes​ ​long​ ​abandoned,​ ​reclaimed​ ​by​ ​salt​ ​and​ ​time we​ ​walked​ ​through​ ​Salton​ ​City,​ ​past​ ​abandoned​ ​dogs,​ ​gutted​ ​trailers, half​ ​buried​ ​boats​ ​and​ ​sagging​ ​palms. It​ ​seemed​ ​like​ ​the​ ​residents​ ​of​ ​long​ ​ago packed​ ​only​ ​what​ ​they​ ​could​ ​carry and​ ​ran​ ​without​ ​a​ ​backward​ ​glance. The​ ​town​ ​felt​ ​hollow​ ​and​ ​out​ ​of​ ​place, stuck​ ​in​ ​time,​ ​eroded​ ​and​ ​ransacked. When​ ​we​ ​drove​ ​away,​ ​I​ ​watched​ ​the​ ​mountains​ ​in​ ​the​ ​rearview the​ ​town​ ​and​ ​the​ ​desolate​ ​sea​ ​were​ ​quickly​ ​disappearing​ ​behind ​ ​the​ ​car, and​ ​the​ ​eerie​ ​silence​ ​that​ ​is​ ​settled​ ​over​ ​Salton​ ​City​ ​settled​ ​between​ ​us and​ ​has​ ​remained​ ​there​ ​ever​ ​since.


June Invention​ ​of​ ​age propels​ ​the​ ​lost​ ​society back​ ​into​ ​the​ ​arms​ ​of​ ​slavery. stranded​ ​machinery​ ​masses cast​ ​mankind away under​ ​speechless​ ​entertainment. What​ ​extinction​ ​we​ ​build. Adam’s​ ​youth now​ ​resolved to​ ​inhibition God​ ​limited through​ ​weights of​ ​forged​ ​material.

NICHOLAS​ ​KYLE​ ​EDWARDS


Musician​ ​in​ ​Red Sitting​ ​on​ ​the​ ​gray​ ​weather rocking​ ​chair​ ​splinters​ ​enter my​ ​back​ ​as​ ​it creaks​ ​back​ ​and​ ​forth keeping​ ​the​ ​beat. Sun​ ​fading,​ ​nearly​ ​down, but​ ​that​ ​don’t​ ​stop the​ ​heat​ ​from​ ​rising,​ ​as sweat​ ​meanders​ ​down​ ​my​ ​forehead to​ ​my​ ​chest​ ​and​ ​underneath my​ ​white​ ​stained​ ​linen​ ​shirt. The​ ​moist​ ​air​ ​brushes out​ ​the​ ​smell​ ​from​ ​inside the​ ​kitchen,​ ​Grandma’s​ ​gumbo. Silky​ ​smooth​ ​the​ ​red​ ​juices​ ​will stream​ ​side​ ​to​ ​side​ ​in my​ ​mouth,​ ​streaming​ ​through the​ ​walls​ ​of​ ​my​ ​cheeks. My​ ​mouth​ ​salivates​ ​waiting to​ ​be​ ​called​ ​in. Grandpa’s​ ​timeworn​ ​banjo sits​ ​comfortably​ ​and​ ​warm upon​ ​my​ ​lap​ ​as​ ​callouses begin​ ​to​ ​form​ ​again​ ​on the​ ​tired​ ​tips​ ​of​ ​my​ ​fingers I​ ​think​ ​of​ ​this​ ​past cold,​ ​dry,​ ​winter.

KATHERINE​ ​BREGER


Ode​ ​to​ ​Bipolar

ZACHARIAH​ ​RUSH “Their​ ​breath​ ​is​ ​agitation,​ ​and​ ​their​ ​life ​ ​A​ ​storm​ ​whereon​ ​they​ ​ride...”​ ​—​ ​Lord​ ​Byron

(​Mania​) To​ ​you​ ​I​ ​owe​ ​the​ ​lightning​ ​of​ ​the​ ​mind, seething,​ ​illuminating,​ ​the​ ​fullness of​ ​ideas,​ ​genius​ ​clattering​ ​out prose,​ ​poetry,​ ​or​ ​painting— sleepless​ ​marvels—not​ ​still-birthing​ ​in​ ​dim waking​ ​(as​ ​others​ ​know​ ​waking). I​ ​walk​ ​scorched​ ​shores​ ​with​ ​seraphim... :(: (​Depression​) To​ ​you​ ​I​ ​owe​ ​a​ ​thousand​ ​gaping​ ​wounds, a​ ​hundred​ ​paltry​ ​suicides. my​ ​scars​ ​screech​ ​thru​ ​serrated​ ​lips scolding​ ​me​ ​for​ ​fatuous​ ​dreams​ ​except​ ​when​ ​pain​ ​pleases. I​ ​have​ ​cried​ ​out​ ​my​ ​spirit,​ ​plunging​ ​limp​ ​thru chaos​ ​after​ ​chaos:​ ​so​ ​little​ ​of​ ​my​ ​hope​ ​remains.


Nocturnal San​ ​Francisco​ ​is​ ​behind​ ​me, then​ ​Carmel,​ ​the​ ​Pacific​ ​Ocean​ ​is​ ​to​ ​my​ ​right, steep​ ​breccia​ ​cliffs​ ​on​ ​the​ ​left. The​ ​scintillating​ ​white​ ​and​ ​blue​ ​surf below​ ​these​ ​seaside​ ​hills show​ ​what​ ​is​ ​merely​ ​beautiful​ ​and​ ​austere. My​ ​car​ ​and​ ​its​ ​speed​ ​is​ ​a​ ​metaphor for​ ​what​ ​is​ ​easily​ ​ignored—non​ ​essential. You​ ​stop,​ ​and​ ​park,​ ​and​ ​look. Drive​ ​on,​ ​stop,​ ​and​ ​look​ ​again. The​ ​injustice​ ​is​ ​to​ ​what’s​ ​eclipsed by​ ​the​ ​trajectory​ ​of​ ​movement, between​ ​its​ ​beginnings​ ​and​ ​ends. Tonight​ ​I​ ​walked​ ​on​ ​the​ ​Carmel​ ​beach under​ ​a​ ​full​ ​moon​ ​that​ ​was​ ​snowing— the​ ​tide​ ​was​ ​out—walking​ ​to​ ​the​ ​song​ ​of​ ​the​ ​sea and​ ​fragrant​ ​air.​ ​ ​And​ ​I​ ​ran. The​ ​moon​ ​unfurled​ ​a​ ​big​ ​white​ ​pearl on​ ​the​ ​trail​ ​of​ ​ocean,​ ​shining​ ​crests​ ​of​ ​waves like​ ​luminous​ ​flowers​ ​opening.​ ​ ​And​ ​stars​ ​dropped chunks​ ​of​ ​light​ ​into​ ​the​ ​black​ ​bay​ ​that​ ​floated like​ ​loons​ ​particular​ ​to​ ​my​ ​private​ ​singularities. I​ ​stopped​ ​to​ ​notice​ ​the​ ​differences— for​ ​a​ ​long​ ​time​ ​I​ ​stopped,​ ​like​ ​a​ ​memory. Like​ ​a​ ​stranger​ ​at​ ​the​ ​door​ ​opening.

STEPHEN​ ​CIPOT​ ​III


CONTRIBUTOR​ ​BIOGRAPHIES Thomas​ ​Mitchell​​ ​studied​ ​writing​ ​at​ ​California​ ​State​ ​University,​ ​Sacramento​ ​where​ ​he​ ​received​ ​his​ ​MA​ ​in English,​ ​and​ ​worked​ ​with​ ​his​ ​mentor,​ ​Dennis​ ​Schmitz.​ ​He​ ​received​ ​his​ ​MFA​ ​in​ ​Creative​ ​Writing​ ​from​ ​the​ ​the University​ ​of​ ​Montana​ ​where​ ​he​ ​studied​ ​with​ ​Richard​ ​Hugo,​ ​Madeline​ ​DeFrees,​ ​and​ ​William​ ​Kittredge.​ ​His poems​ ​and​ ​essays​ ​have​ ​appeared​ ​in​ ​numerous​ ​journals​ ​and​ ​anthologies,​ ​including​ ​THE​ ​NEW​ ​ENGLAND REVIEW,​ ​NEW​ ​LETTERS,​ ​QUARTERLY​ ​WEST,​ ​THE​ ​NEW​ ​ORLEANS​ ​REVIEW,​ ​CALIFORNIA​ ​QUARTERLY, CLOUDBANK.​ ​He​ ​taught​ ​middle​ ​school​ ​in​ ​Southern​ ​Oregon​ ​for​ ​31​ ​years, where​ ​he​ ​now​ ​lives​ ​on​ ​the​ ​coast​ ​with​ ​his​ ​wife,​ ​Linda. A.M.​ ​Clarke​​ ​has​ ​been​ ​writing​ ​poetry​ ​since​ ​her​ ​early​ ​teens.​ ​She​ ​was​ ​born​ ​and​ ​raised​ ​in​ ​the​ ​panhandle​ ​of Florida​ ​and,​ ​after​ ​living​ ​in​ ​Utah​ ​for​ ​a​ ​few​ ​years,​ ​she​ ​has​ ​decided​ ​to​ ​give​ ​living​ ​in​ ​Sacramento​ ​a​ ​try.​ ​She currently​ ​lives​ ​with​ ​her​ ​boyfriend​ ​and​ ​two​ ​long​ ​suffering​ ​cats. Samantha​ ​Archuleta​​ ​is​ ​a​ ​writer​ ​of​ ​poetry​ ​and​ ​nonfiction.​ ​She​ ​teaches​ ​high​ ​school​ ​English​ ​in​ ​Sacramento,​ ​CA where​ ​she​ ​lives​ ​with​ ​her​ ​husband​ ​and​ ​two​ ​dogs. Nicholas​ ​Kyle​ ​Edwards​​ ​is​ ​an​ ​aspiring,​ ​Californian​ ​poet.​ ​Reflecting​ ​on​ ​America​ ​and​ ​individuality,​ ​his​ ​poems ooze​ ​Beatnik​ ​influence​ ​and​ ​existential​ ​philosophies.​ ​Studying​ ​philosophy​ ​at​ ​Sacramento​ ​City​ ​College​ ​and working​ ​in​ ​a​ ​local​ ​bookstore,​ ​Nicholas​ ​spends​ ​his​ ​time​ ​thinking​ ​on​ ​the​ ​big​ ​questions​ ​of​ ​ethics.​ ​Further,​ ​as​ ​an avid​ ​reader,​ ​he​ ​constantly​ ​inquires​ ​into​ ​the​ ​nature​ ​of​ ​knowledge.​ ​He​ ​takes​ ​long​ ​walks​ ​in​ ​a​ ​forest​ ​near​ ​his home,​ ​and​ ​he​ ​does​ ​so,​ ​all​ ​in​ ​pursuit​ ​of​ ​discovering​ ​his​ ​own​ ​writing,​ ​out​ ​of​ ​necessity​ ​,​ ​rather​ ​than​ ​desire. Katherine​ ​Breger​,​ ​originally​ ​from​ ​Hollister​ ​California,​ ​enjoys​ ​writing​ ​poetry​ ​as​ ​a​ ​way​ ​to​ ​escape​ ​and​ ​express her​ ​thoughts.​ ​Her​ ​work​ ​is​ ​inspired​ ​mostly​ ​by​ ​romance,​ ​music,​ ​nature,​ ​and​ ​family​ ​within​ ​her​ ​life.​ ​Breger​ ​finds it​ ​very​ ​important​ ​to​ ​write​ ​what​ ​she​ ​knows​ ​or​ ​has​ ​experienced​ ​as​ ​a​ ​way​ ​to​ ​embody​ ​honest​ ​and​ ​pure emotion.​ ​Influences​ ​such​ ​as​ ​Langston​ ​Hughes,​ ​Maya​ ​Angelou,​ ​Naomi​ ​Shihab​ ​Nye,​ ​and​ ​Phillip​ ​Levine​ ​inspire her​ ​to​ ​write​ ​every​ ​single​ ​day​ ​keeping​ ​her​ ​dedicated​ ​and​ ​grounded.​ ​Breger​ ​currently​ ​resides​ ​in​ ​Davis, California​ ​acquiring​ ​her​ ​multiple​ ​subject​ ​teaching​ ​credential​ ​from​ ​the​ ​University​ ​of​ ​California​ ​Davis. Zachariah​ ​Rush​​ ​was​ ​born​ ​in​ ​Manchester,​ ​England,​ ​where​ ​his​ ​early​ ​poetry​ ​was​ ​published​ ​in​ ​small​ ​press anthologies.​ ​Since​ ​moving​ ​to​ ​the​ ​USA​ ​in​ ​2007​ ​he​ ​published​ ​the​ ​books​ ​'Beyond​ ​the​ ​Screenplay'​ ​(McFarland, 2012),​ ​and​ ​'Cinema​ ​&​ ​its​ ​Discontents'​ ​(McFarland,​ ​2016),​ ​dozens​ ​of​ ​essays​ ​of​ ​film​ ​criticism​ ​and​ ​translated Albert​ ​Camus'​ ​'L'étranger'​ ​into​ ​a​ ​libretto​ ​for​ ​operatic​ ​performance.​ ​In​ ​recent​ ​months​ ​he​ ​has​ ​returned​ ​to writing​ ​poetry. Stephen​ ​Cipot​​ ​is​ ​a​ ​scientist​ ​for​ ​the​ ​U.S.E.P.A.,​ ​writer,​ ​runner,​ ​poet.​ ​Awards​ ​include​ ​an​ ​Edward​ ​Albee residency.​ ​He​ ​assisted​ ​the​ ​US​ ​tour​ ​featuring​ ​Aeronwy​ ​Thomas​ ​and​ ​Peter​ ​Thabit​ ​Jones.​ ​Publications​ ​include: Veils,​ ​Halos​ ​and​ ​Shackles:​ ​International​ ​Poetry​ ​on​ ​the​ ​Abuse​ ​and​ ​Oppression​ ​of​ ​Women;​ ​PRISM:​ ​a​ ​Journal​ ​for Holocaust​ ​Educators;​ ​The​ ​Paterson​ ​Literary​ ​Review;​ ​The​ ​Seventh​ ​Quarry;​ ​LI​ ​Pulse;​ ​Korean​ ​Expatriate Literature;​ ​American​ ​Tanka;​ ​Anton​ ​Newspapers,​ ​GLIRC​ ​Footnotes.


Stark​ ​Perch​ ​by​ ​Jason​ ​Shapiro



Feather​ ​Dew​ ​by​ ​Jason​ ​Shapiro

Ascending​ ​at​ ​Twilight​ ​by​ ​Ali​ ​Lichtenstein


Rocky​ ​Shore​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Atlantic,​ ​Southern​ ​Maine​ ​by​ ​Ali​ ​Lichtenstein


California​ ​Landscape:​ ​Field​ ​and​ ​Sand​ ​Mine,​ ​Monterey​ ​Bay​ ​by​ ​Gillian​ ​Wegener


California​ ​Landscape:​ ​Marina​ ​with​ ​Paddleboarders,​ ​Monterey​ ​Bay​ ​by​ ​Gillian​ ​Wegener


Belle​ ​of​ ​Giverny​ ​by​ ​Bethanie​ ​Humphreys


Beetle’s​ ​Prayer​ ​by​ ​Bethanie​ ​Humphrey’s


P​ ​H​ ​O​ ​T​ ​O​ ​G​ ​R​ ​A​ ​P​ ​H​ ​E​ ​R S Jason​ ​Stephen​ ​Shapiro​ hails​ ​from​ ​a​ ​background​ ​in​ ​theater,​ ​photography, and​ ​radio.​ ​He​ ​Served​ ​on​ ​the​ ​American​ ​River​ ​Review​ ​as​ ​a​ ​fiction​ ​editor​ ​in​ ​2012 at​ ​American​ ​River​ ​College,​ ​and​ ​was​ ​poetry​ ​editor​ ​for​ ​the​ ​Caleveras​ ​Station Arts​ ​&​ ​Literary​ ​Journal,​ ​before​ ​becoming​ ​Executive​ ​Editor​ ​at​ ​Sac​ ​State​ ​and​ ​is pursuing​ ​his​ ​M.A.​ ​in​ ​creative​ ​writing.​ ​Jason’s​ ​works​ ​are​ ​published​ ​in​ ​the​ ​ARR, The​ ​Gapped​ ​Tooth​ ​Madness,​ ​and​ ​Poetry​ ​Now.

Ali​ ​Lichtenstein ​uses​ ​her​ ​camera​ ​to​ ​capture​ ​mood,​ ​place,​ ​and​ ​memories. She​ ​taught​ ​women/gender​ ​studies​ ​and​ ​writing​ ​at​ ​Keene​ ​State​ ​College​ ​in​ ​New Hampshire​ ​before​ ​moving​ ​to​ ​Sacramento​ ​in​ ​2014.​ ​Ali​ ​currently​ ​teaches​ ​ESL​ ​at Sacramento​ ​ESL,​ ​and​ ​multi-genre​ ​writing​ ​and​ ​fiber/mixed​ ​media​ ​at​ ​Women’s Wisdom​ ​Art,​ ​where​ ​she​ ​also​ ​serves​ ​as​ ​the​ ​Board​ ​Chair. Gillian​ ​Wegene​r​ ​lives​ ​and​ ​writes​ ​in​ ​California’s​ ​Central​ ​Valley.​ ​She​ ​is​ ​the author​ ​of​ ​a​ ​chapbook, ​Lifting​ ​One​ ​Foot,​ ​Lifting​ ​the​ ​Other​ (In​ ​the​ ​Grove​ ​Press, 2001),​ ​and​ ​two​ ​full-length​ ​collections, ​The​ ​Opposite​ ​of​ ​Clairvoyance​ (2008) and ​This​ ​Sweet​ ​Haphazard​ (2017)​ ​both​ ​from​ ​Sixteen​ ​Rivers​ ​Press.​ ​She​ ​is​ ​the founding​ ​president​ ​of​ ​the​ ​Modesto-Stanislaus​ ​Poetry​ ​Center,​ ​and​ ​a​ ​former poet​ ​laureate​ ​for​ ​the​ ​City​ ​of​ ​Modesto.

Bethanie​ ​Humphreys​ is​ ​a​ ​writer,​ ​editor,​ ​and​ ​mixed​ ​media​ ​visual​ ​artist.​ ​She​ ​is also​ ​curator​ ​for​ ​the​ ​Sacramento​ ​Poetry​ ​Center​ ​Art​ ​Gallery,​ ​and​ ​hosts​ ​Hot Poetry​ ​in​ ​the​ ​Park.​ ​ Her​ ​poetry​ ​and​ ​fiction​ ​has​ ​been​ ​published​ ​in​ ​several literary​ ​magazines​ ​including ​Nonbinary​ ​Review​, ​Found​ ​Poetry Review, American​ ​River​ ​Review​,​ ​and ​Sacramento​ ​Voices​.​ ​Her​ ​goal​ ​is​ ​to further​ ​thecross-pollinization​ ​of​ ​literary​ ​and​ ​visual​ ​arts. See​ ​more​ ​at: facebook.com/BethanieHumphreysmixedmediaarts


UNDER​ ​30​ ​CONTEST​ ​WINNERS First​ ​Place: After​ ​The​ ​Sky​ ​Cracked​ ​by​ ​Stuart​ ​L​ ​Canton shards​ ​of​ ​words​ ​fell through​ ​the​ ​ringing​ ​thunder​ ​to​ ​smash windshields​ ​of​ ​drivers​ ​below​ ​who​ ​swerved off​ ​the​ ​road,​ ​and​ ​some​ ​said​ ​this​ ​was​ ​God’s​ ​will as​ ​the​ ​children​ ​cried​ ​tears​ ​of​ ​plastic that​ ​rushed​ ​down​ ​the​ ​black sewers​ ​to​ ​oceans;​ ​while​ ​the​ ​dam​ ​flooded​ ​with chunks​ ​of​ ​verbs,​ ​greasy hunks​ ​that​ ​reached​ ​the​ ​very​ ​brim​ ​until the​ ​weight​ ​pushed​ ​down​ ​the​ ​spillway​ ​and​ ​shredded the​ ​cash​ ​just​ ​under​ ​the​ ​rock,​ ​ripping​ ​through towns​ ​and​ ​farms​ ​hungry​ ​for​ ​action​ ​– and​ ​people​ ​on​ ​both​ ​sides​ ​got​ ​swept​ ​up and​ ​ground​ ​by​ ​the​ ​flow and​ ​somewhere​ ​in​ ​the​ ​storm​ ​like​ ​a​ ​metaphor​ ​without​ ​translation I​ ​thought​ ​I​ ​heard​ ​the​ ​clinging​ ​drifting​ ​farther Stuart​ ​Canton​ ​is​ ​29​ ​years​ ​old​ ​and​ ​spending​ ​his​ ​last​ ​year​ ​before​ ​thirty​ ​in Sacramento​ ​where​ ​he​ ​has​ ​just​ ​graduated​ ​from​ ​CSUS,​ ​where​ ​he​ ​won​ ​a Bazzanella​ ​award​ ​for​ ​poetry.​ ​While​ ​lacking​ ​the​ ​wisdom​ ​that​ ​comes​ ​from​ ​being above​ ​30,​ ​Stuart​ ​has​ ​attempted​ ​to​ ​see​ ​beyond​ ​his​ ​youth​ ​and​ ​address​ ​issues of​ ​ecology​ ​with​ ​his​ ​writing,​ ​and​ ​has​ ​explored​ ​many​ ​methods​ ​such​ ​as​ ​concrete poetry​ ​and​ ​surrealism.​ ​His​ ​work​ ​has​ ​appeared​ ​in​ ​The​ ​American​ ​River​ ​Review, Calaveras​ ​Station​ ​Literary​ ​Journal,​ ​WTF!?,​ ​Poetry​ ​Now,​ ​and​ ​other​ ​local publications.


Second​ ​Place: Why​ ​Wait​ ​by​ ​Esti​ ​Shapiro The​ ​snake​ ​opened​ ​his​ ​eyes​ ​up​ ​to​ ​the​ ​sky and​ ​hoped​ ​that​ ​one​ ​day​ ​he​ ​could​ ​be​ ​free His​ ​mother​ ​appeared​ ​and​ ​said​ ​why​ ​so​ ​down who​ ​would​ ​want​ ​to​ ​be​ ​in​ ​the​ ​sky,​ ​not​ ​me. He​ ​grew​ ​up​ ​big​ ​with​ ​a​ ​wonderful​ ​life​ ​and​ ​home and​ ​often​ ​slithered​ ​up​ ​a​ ​hill​ ​to​ ​meet​ ​creatures​ ​he​ ​hadn’t​ ​met But​ ​then​ ​his​ ​mother​ ​appeared​ ​and​ ​scowled​ ​like​ ​an​ ​angry​ ​gnome and​ ​said​ ​you’re​ ​not​ ​old​ ​enough​ ​yet. Then​ ​one​ ​night​ ​while​ ​looking​ ​up​ ​to​ ​the​ ​sky​ ​the​ ​stars​ ​spelled​ ​out​ ​to​ ​him if​ ​you​ ​believe​ ​then​ ​dreams​ ​are​ ​reality The​ ​snake​ ​set​ ​out​ ​at​ ​once​ ​to​ ​explore​ ​the​ ​world and​ ​prove​ ​to​ ​his​ ​mother​ ​that​ ​he​ ​had​ ​more​ ​than​ ​enough​ ​maturity The​ ​snake​ ​from​ ​then​ ​on​ ​followed​ ​his​ ​dreams​ ​and​ ​never​ ​let​ ​anyone​ ​tell​ ​him​ ​to stop​ ​for​ ​he​ ​truly​ ​believed​ ​the​ ​words, Why​ ​wait. My​ ​name​ ​is​ ​Esti​ ​Shapiro​ ​and​ ​I​ ​am​ ​eleven​ ​years​ ​old.​ ​I​ ​am​ ​in​ ​the​ ​sixth​ ​grade​ ​at Shalom​ ​School​ ​and​ ​I​ ​live​ ​with​ ​my​ ​parents,​ ​sister,​ ​brother,​ ​two​ ​dogs,​ ​and​ ​three chickens.​ ​I​ ​enjoy​ ​playing​ ​soccer,​ ​piano,​ ​and​ ​doing​ ​gymnastics.​ ​My​ ​poem​ ​is about​ ​following​ ​your​ ​dreams​ ​and​ ​not​ ​letting​ ​anybody​ ​tell​ ​you​ ​not​ ​to.


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